


Pyramides et Pensum

by MaskoftheRay



Series: Prompt and Circumstance [9]
Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: A much needed conversation is had over coffee, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Bittersweet, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce and Harley have a complicated relationship, But they're also not not friends, Emotional Hurt, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healthy life choices, Honesty, Humor, Making good life choices, Miscommunication, Moral Ambiguity, Mostly Sweet, Moving On, New Beginnings, Past Abuse, Past Joker/Harleen Quinzel, Prompt Fic, Sequel, They're not friends - Freeform, Use Your Words, Vigilantism, kind of, slightly AU, well mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-01 04:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: Two years have passed since Harley Quinn made her brief reappearance in Gotham in order to make amends with Batman. Since then, Bruce hasn’t heard from her. Until, one night, he does. Turns out that she may or may not have gotten herself into a bit of trouble, and needs Batman’s help. Somehow, he’s not surprised.Or: Batman helps Harleen, and in return, she takes him to her apartment and makes him coffee.
Relationships: Batman & Harleen Quinzel, Batman & Nightwing, Batman & Robin (mentioned), Batman & the Justice League (mentioned), Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd (mentioned), Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel - Relationship
Series: Prompt and Circumstance [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540885
Comments: 16
Kudos: 210





	Pyramides et Pensum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annarolls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annarolls/gifts).

> This is a VERY, VERY LATE prompt fill for [annarolls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annarolls/pseuds/annarolls): “Well no rehabilitation is perfect, and slipping is to be expected. Living with the Joker had ingrained in Harley a ‘take what you want, when you want it’ mentality, and instant gratification is difficult to let go. “Really, Bats? Did ‘ya know? You have the worse timing. What are ya even doing here?”” I modified the prompt a bit, but I hope you like it!
> 
> “Things may come to those who wait, but only the things left by those who hustle”  
—Abraham Lincoln (?)

One night, out of the blue, he gets a call on the communicator. The one he gave to _Harleen_. “Hello?” Batman asks tersely. Since that night atop the Brixman Family Jeweler’s building, she hasn’t called. So Bruce is just _slightly_ worried.

“Bats!” She sounds vaguely out of breath. “I need you to help a girl out.”

Bruce briefly closes his eyes. “Is it urgent?” But he already knows: if she’s calling him now, _of course _it is. <strike>Harley</strike> **Harleen** doesn’t reply, but he gets an answer in the form of background noise: a fist meeting skin. It is a sound he is familiar with. “Where are you?” he asks; true to his word, Batman has not tried to track down the ex-clown.

“Midway City.”

_Shit_. That’s an hour and a half out, at best. Bruce covers the comm.’s mic and sighs. He had hoped to retire early tonight. It’s been a long week. “I’ll be there as fast as possible. Get out of danger, if you can.” He ends the call, and bolts to the jet.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

The flight to Midway City is tense. A lot can happen in one hour. Hell, a lot can happen in a few minutes. _He’d learned that with J—_ Bruce releases a shuddery breath, and increases his flight speed. _This is not Ethiopia_. Harleen is not Robin.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

When Batman arrives, he sees two things: Harleen has _not _followed his advice about removing herself from the situation (that, or her problem is more serious than she’d led him to believe), and she’s losing the fight— but not as badly as she _should_ be. Not as badly as someone who’s ostensibly been out of practice for the last handful of years.

Batman leaps out of the night, and then he _moves_. Understandably, his sudden and _definitely_ unexpected appearance gives Harleen’s opponents a moment of pause. But, like most criminals, they soon recover. There is something to be said for the determination of those immersed in the criminal underworld. Not that Bruce appreciates it.

One man, carrying a switchblade, rushes Harleen. She kicks him in the ribs, then delivers a fierce (and well-aimed) right hook. The man crumples to the ground, his blade dropped in a clatter. Behind the cowl, Bruce’s eyebrows rise. “I kickbox,” Harleen explains wheezily. Bruce just nods, but makes a mental note to check into vigilantism in Midway. _Interesting_.

Against Batman and Harleen, the… crooks— Bruce isn’t really sure what to call them, given Harleen’s background— don’t stand a chance. Within ten minutes of his arrival, all five men are subdued. After Bruce finishes tying the last one to a nearby lamppost, he straightens up, and makes a mental note to contact the local police. Then he demands: “What happened?”

Harleen is doubled over, breathing heavily. She holds up a finger: give me a minute. He gives her the moment— she _has _been running around for at least the past hour, after all. Bruce _also_ is not looking forward to the return flight to Gotham. He scans her for injuries. Shockingly, there are none. Bruce rubs his eyes while Harleen is still not looking. God, he’s exhausted.

Finally, Harleen straightens up. It’s then that Batman really takes in what she’s wearing. It looks like a leather suit (definitely has some kind of built-in armor) not unlike Selina’s. Different personal style, though. It’s less... sexy, more practical; it’s got several large pockets. She’s wearing a red and blue jacket over it. Harleen lets him look.

“What happened?” Bruce asks again. He puts a bit of a growl into it. He may have come running to her assistance, but he never appreciates being bullshitted.

Harleen offers a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry to call ya away from Gotham,” she responds. “But I got into… let’s just say _a situation_, an’ it turned out to be more than I could handle.” She falls silent, and gives him an appraising look. Bruce nods: go on. Harleen sucks in one breath, then continues, “I didn’t _mean_ to, honest. But I found out my boss is workin’ a pyramid scheme, and funneling money into the mayor’s office, and his reelection campaign. It goes without sayin,’ but he’s corrupt.”

Batman blinks. One of the tied-up criminals groans. He sighs. _God, he’s too tired for this_. Dick would definitely be laughing at him. If he knew that Harleen Quinzel was not, actually, dead. This whole situation is a headache. “Don’t move,” he tells Harleen. She nods.

Bruce marches a few feet away, until he has a modicum of privacy. Reluctantly, he pulls out his comm.— the regular one— and inputs Nightwing’s code. _This will be fun_.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

“H’lo?” Dick’s groggy voice answers. “B?”

Bruce feels a little bad; Nightwing doesn’t stay up as late as he does. “Yes, it’s me. Is now a good time?”

Dick groans. Bruce feels _worse_. But his <strike>eldest</strike> son replies, “Sure. Give me a minute.” Bruce hears his bedsheets rustle, then the soft sound of Dick walking through his apartment. The tap runs. Dick clears his throat, then asks, “What’s up?”

“I’m in Midway City.”

Dick is silent for a beat. “What’re you doing in Midway?” he asks, half-exasperated, half-concerned.

Bruce hesitates for a moment. _Dick is going to be **mad**_. “I’m here because Harleen Quinzel called me, asking for help. She claims to have been looking into a pyramid scheme and political corruption involving the mayor’s office.”

Dick sighs. “What,” he says; it’s not a question. Bruce hears the sound of him flopping down on his couch. “Okay— okay, Harley’s _alive_… and you didn’t tell me. Okay.” He sounds _pissed_. Bruce frowns. _He didn’t mean to upset his son— but then, does he ever?_

“… I need you to look into pyramid schemes. And Midway City’s mayor,” he states awkwardly.

Dick sighs again. “Fine. But we _will _talk about this later.” He hangs up. Bruce lets out a long exhale, tucks away the comm., and walks back to Harleen. She’s leaning against the wall, keeping an eye on their defeated opponents.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

“Are the cops clean enough for me to call this in?” Bruce asks bluntly.

Harleen squints thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugs. “Better’n Gotham,” she answers. Bruce’s jaw twitches. Her eyes widen. “Oh. I didn’t mean—”

Bruce holds up a hand. She falls silent. “It’s fine. Give me a minute.” He pulls out his cellphone and leaves an anonymous tip. Once he’s done, he looks at Harleen again. She’s still leaning against the wall. She looks at him. They’re both quiet. Bruce shakes his head— maybe he _should_ listen to Alfred about taking a break. He goes to leave.

“Wait.” Batman pauses. Harleen eases herself off the wall, and steps around the subdued criminals. “You look tired, Bats. Want some coffee before ya take off?”

Before he can think better of it, Bruce agrees, “Sure.”

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

As they’re flying over downtown— Harleen directing him— the dashboard lights up: Batman has an in-coming call. He’s hesitant to accept it. Harleen settles back in her seat. “Go on an’ take it. I’ll keep quiet.” Bruce swallows, and hopes nothing bad comes from this.

“Batman,” he answers.

“Hey, B. So I looked into it, and—” Harleen gasps loudly.

“Is that the first _Robin_?!” she exclaims. “He sounds so grown up!” Bruce groans.

There’s silence on the other end, before: “Harley?” Dick sounds… hesitant, but not any of the other emotions that Batman might’ve expected. His son is so much better than him.

“It’s Har_leen_ now, actually. How are ya, Robin?”

Dick laughs. “Well, it’s Nightwing now. I’m good…”

After an extremely uncomfortable moment, Bruce prompts, “You had something to tell me?”

Dick hums thoughtfully. “Well, given that I’m calling only, like, thirty minutes after your request, this update’s gonna be minimal. But there _is _some suspicious shit— _stuff_, sorry— going on in Midway, from what I can see.”

Bruce nods in response, forgetting momentarily that Dick can’t see it. _God, he’s tired_. He glances sideways at Harleen, who’s giving him a ‘told you so’ look. “Okay. Thank you for looking into it,” he replies calmly.

“Yeah, no problem, B. See you around.” Dick ends the call.

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

The roof of Harleen’s building is clearly not strong enough to support the weight of the jet, so Bruce sets it to stealth mode, and has it hover above the building— not high enough to interfere with air traffic, though. He grabs ahold of Harleen, and lowers them to the roof via grapple line. Then he hesitates. _How to put it? _“Is anyone going to notice if I break into the building?” Bruce asks. He doesn’t want to _assume _what kind of neighborhood (and building) Harleen lives in.

She snorts, like she hears his unasked question. “Not if we’re quiet. But don’t _dawdle_.”

Bruce nods. _Well that’s one thing he doesn’t have to worry about at least_. He is surprisingly _pleased _that Harleen is not stuck in a bad neighborhood. “Got it.”

**~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~ <> ~**

Bruce picks the lock, which is surprisingly _decent_— “I… I don’t want to take chances, in case _he _ever finds me,” Harleen explains— and then he steps back and lets her enter the apartment first. Ordinarily, he’d _never _let someone like Harleen enter a space before him, but even when she was Harley Quinn, Batman could count on her to have a moral code. Most of the time.

“Lights on or off?” she asks.

Bruce blinks. He looks around a moment, thinking. The moonlight is faint, but then, he can see the glimmer of daylight starting to show on horizon. “Off.”

His hostess nods, then gestures to the couch. “Have a seat.” Instead, Bruce follows her into the kitchen, and takes one of the wooden chairs. He pretends that this is only out of a sense of wanting to keep an eye on the dubious ex-clown. But really, he doesn’t want to get Harleen’s furniture dirty. Or risk falling asleep here.

To distract himself, Bruce looks around. The space is on the smaller side, but it is clean. _Very _clean, as if Harleen puts all of her late night terrors and nervous energy into maintaining the space. Bruce knows a thing or two about late night terrors and nervous energy. The kitchen appliances don’t look new (at least not to Batman’s inexperienced eye), but a few do look _newer_. The table and chairs match, and there seems to have been a unifying design scheme in the living room as well; Harleen has some money, then.

“… Bats?” Bruce jumps as Harleen’s voice appears at his shoulder. He turns. She’s standing behind him, holding two mugs. “Do you take cream an’ sugar or anything?” She looks a bit concerned.

Bruce bites down on his frustration. “No.”

Harleen nods, and sets his mug down in front of him. She takes the chair across from Batman, and sets her own mug down on the table with a mild thump. Bruce sees that she _does _take her coffee with cream, at least. They’re both silent for a long while.

When Bruce feels himself slumping backwards, he grabs for the coffee, and takes a long sip. Harleen sighs. Bruce slides his gaze towards her. She’s got both her hands wrapped around the mug, as if she’s trying to absorb its warmth. “I don’t mean to cause ya any trouble.” Bruce takes another swig of coffee, and waits. Harleen sets the mug down, and leans against the back of her chair. She crosses her legs. “How’ve you been, Batman? How’s Gotham?”

Bruce laughs. _Definitely overtired_, he thinks clinically. He cuts himself off. “Fine.”

Harleen’s gaze narrows. Bruce abruptly remembers that she’s a trained _psychologist_. “Better,” he amends. “I’m— it’s good that Nightwing is around” _to make sure I don’t lose it. To make me get back up on the days where my life feels like a blackhole. To make sure that when I want to do nothing but scream, I’ll have someone else there to hear me_ “it… helps that I have someone else watching my back.”

She falls silent for a moment, and when she speaks, she doesn’t ask, ‘What about the Justice League?’ He’s glad of it. They— the league— do _try _to help, but… nobody gets it quite like Dick. Nobody had _known _J— _his second son_ quite like Dick, and Alfred. And Bruce. Instead, she simply responds: “Good… I keep track of th’ news, ya know?”

Bruce does. He tracks the news too— for different reasons that Harleen does though. Probably. It’s his turn to ask: “How are you?”

Harleen smiles. She grabs her mug again, and takes a sip. “It’s a process,” she says. “Mostly, I’m better. Might not look it right now—” she raises her mug and gestures at him with it, “but I am.” Bruce finishes his coffee, and sets the mug gently on the table. They fall quiet again.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce sees that the sun is coming up. _Time to go_. Harleen follows his gaze, and frowns slightly at the weak light. Then she glances back at him. “I suppose it’s past your bedtime,” she quips. Bruce grimaces momentarily, but lets the jab slide.

“I should get back to Gotham.” He stands. Harleen does too. Neither move. Bruce is hesitating, for some reason. _It doesn’t feel right to leave yet_. “If you… ever need any assistance, you have my number,” he says, after a moment.

Harleen smiles. “Gotcha.”

Bruce still doesn’t move. “If… if the _hero_ thing sticks, give me a call.”

Her eyes widen slightly, for a second, then Harleen’s expression turns resigned. “I was wonderin’ if you’d figure it out.” She keeps her eyes locked on him, waiting for a reaction.

Bruce shrugs. ‘I’m Batman,’ is what he _does not_ say. “I’m a detective.”

Harleen laughs. “Right. Well— I’ll keep that in mind. Get outta here, Bats.”

Bruce smiles. It feels like things might be _okay_, for once. “Thank you for the coffee.”

He walks across the kitchen, and opens the window. Bruce recalls the jet and decloaks it— can’t aim the grapple if he can’t _see_ his target— and shoots a line out to the jet. Once it’s secure, he hurtles through the air. Then he steps smoothly through the open cargo door. As he settles into the pilot’s seat, Bruce sees Harleen waving from the still-open window.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, once again, for the (really) shitty Latin. I should just learn it at this point to avoid future confusion, lol. If you DO know Latin, and want to help a girl out, the title of this _should_ be, “Pyramids and Poise.”
> 
> I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS MY 50TH FIC 😱 🥳. Like, wow. I’ve written so many words on here!
> 
> You can read the prequel to this fic [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20242801#main).


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